Forgotten Gods
by PurpleMoon3
Summary: Most of the Old Immortals, at one time or another, had been considered gods.
1. Huh

**Forgotten Gods**

**A Stargate SG1/Highlander the Series Crossover**

**Disclaimer: Stargate goes to MGM, while Highlander in all it's many forms goes to the Davis-Panzer people. **

**Warning: There be OC's ahead. Along with a few regulars.**

He was born in desert country, long before modern time-keeping. He can remember when there were few, so very few, of his kind roaming the earth that One could go years/decades/centuries without finding another. It was a time when One did not have to hide what One was. It was a time before The Game.

Magic was magic, and neither good or evil.

Then they came from the sky, few at first, then more. Great ships touched down, and the new Ones claimed to be Gods.

He remembers being taken for his sword skill, an impossible number of creatures piling atop him, cutting with their claws, and dragging him off to their Masters.

He remembers the woman, the Goddess, with cold yellow eyes as she held him like a lover and his abdomen burned.

He remembers a time when his body didn't have a hole in it, and it was with immense satisfaction that he ripped the essence of the thing-that-would-be-god from his belly as the Capitol burned and Ra fled.

He remembers pledging himself to another like him, and grinding all the worms under their boots while the people dug a pit to bury their past.

* * *

><p>AN - Huh, in the Egyptian mythology, is the personification of eternity. Not a bad legacy for an Immortal Jaffa. The creatures he refers to are Unas.


	2. Shezmu

**Forgotten Gods**

**A Stargate SG1/Highlander the Series Crossover**

He can't quite remember the time of his birth, the ways of his people, or even his true name. Memories are stored by the quickening, transferred from one Immortal to the other through it, and Methos had lived a long, long time before he'd had to take the head of another like himself.

Sometimes, when he dreams, he can hear the sound of hoofbeats and a crackling fire. We're they nomadic? He'd never liked staying in one place too long...

Sometimes, he remembers an angry vibrating voice and flashing eyes looking up at him, a stone Asp rearing and spitting light, but all it did was tingle as the magic danced harmlessly over his skin. Methos dreams of raising his sword, of slashing down, and leaving behind a temple of blood.

When he has that particular dream, he wakes sweating, his heart beating in his throat, and the pyramids on his mind.

Once upon a time, he had been Pharaoh. Once upon a time, the throne of Egypt had been passed down from Immortal to Immortal, each living as a true God-King, and each chosen heir taking the heads, and the memories, of their predecessor along with the throne. Except for Methos.

Methos, who locked the ruling Immortal in a stone sarcophagus, forever living and dying in an endless cycle. Eternal torment. The perfect revenge.

Sometimes, when he wakes from those dreams, Methos swallows and wonders if he _should_ have taken the Pharaoh's head. _Should_ have taken those oh-so-valuable memories.

Sometimes, there are greater things to fear than headhunters.

In the original Greek, Apocalypse meant _to uncover_, and Methos wishes he could remember just _what_ he had been the horseman for.

* * *

><p>AN- The god Shezmu was the god of the wine press, oil, perfume, as well as bloody slaughter. According to . In the Cannibal Hymn: "...where Shezmu is portrayed as the being who kills and butchers the gods themselves in order that the king might absorb their strength and vitality."

As time went on, however, the bloodthirsty aspect of Shezmu was neglected in favor of the wine-making aspect.


	3. Marduk

**Forgotten Gods**

**A Stargate SG1/Highlander the Series Crossover**

"And you have an appointment with a Mr. Robert Kinsey at two, Mr. Durham." His secretary, a well aged blonde that he'd had for the past two decades, said softly. She knew not to ask questions, and if she happened to have one of those odd little symbols on the inside of her wrist... who was he to judge religious orientations?

"Thank you, Clarice." He accepted the folder she handed him and began flipping through the files. A few government contracts that needed looking over, some independent contractor quotes, and a list of catering options for the employee appreciation party. Truthfully, he wasn't looking forward to the meeting with Kinsey. The man was swine. Complete and total imbecilic swine.

Of course he would be wanting funding to help his bid for the White House, making promises of sending weapons development contracts Mark's way, and of late had been dropping several hints of very large, exclusive, leaps in technology that any businessman would like to be on the forefront of. He claimed to be in it for the United States and the American way, but Mark couldn't see the man actually standing up and_ fighting _for what he believed in. A true politician hiding behind paper dragons and the blood of his ancestors. The man could push a button and nod his head, giving the order to kill hundreds and thousands, but stalled at the idea of having to get his own hands bloody.

Kinsey had never picked up a sword. Had never faced his death with back straight and head clear. Had never been called to stand and deliver.

Though he was very good at covering it up, Mark Durham always felt a little like throwing up every time they met, and was not looking forward to the afternoon's word games.

Mark tossed the folder onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, hand coming to rest on the hidden pommel of a dagger he'd had longer than he could remember. Ah, for the days when one could unleash the inner tempest without social moors getting in the way... or the city guard, for that matter.

"What do you think, Tia?" Mark whispered, eyes moving to a revealed fish-tank as thin walls retreated. A large creature, something like a mix between an eel, snake, and the mythical Chinese dragons swam in the tank, jaws open and angry. Mark smiled as he watched what had once been a goddess terrorize a gold fish. "Have your brethren returned?"

The snake creature didn't answer in any language understood by man. Mark glanced back down at the files. His thumb traced the symbols carved on his dagger, sparks spitting from the tip.

* * *

><p>AN- Marduk, chief Mesopotamian god, got there by vote when the other gods needed someone to face off against the then in-charge evil goddess Tiamat. He tended to take on other gods roles and titles, as well as that of several kings. Known for defeating Tiamat (dragon of chaos) being the creator of humankind (some stories say he brought in humankind to work the fields so the gods wouldn't have to) as well as having a saw toothed lightning dagger and all those other jobs he usurped at one time or another.


	4. Baldur

**Forgotten Gods**

**A Stargate SG1/Highlander the Series Crossover**

He's on a boat when fire lights up the sky. Out in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by gently lapping water and no fear of drowning, (Immortals can't, actually, drown. It was one of the first lessons Ramirez taught him, and one the younger Immortals have trouble accepting.) it is the perfect place for a vacation from headhunting.

Relaxed, but with sword habitually close at hand, Connor found himself unprepared when the other-memory floated up from the depths of his mind in response to an explosion in the upper-atmosphere. Crystal cities. Ships that traveled the skies as easily as his own traversed the seas. A short, pale almost grey skinned people.

His chest warmed involuntarily at the fuzzy image of a one-eyed being, grizzled and old, and a bright, white light taking away the fallen from a battle field. The adoptive father.

Another being, also small and grey, but shrewd and calculating created a feeling of anger.

A language that Connor didn't know, but understood because the one who originally experienced the memory had understood, echoed in his hears with the blast that only just then rippled across the waters. _"Be pleased, cousin. Your contribution may someday save the entire Asgard race... I cannot yet mimic your ability to heal, but perhaps the memory transfer... yes, a different kind of Immortality... it is, after all, only another form of energy..._"

Connor rode out the flashbacks, seeing spots behind his eyes, and released a shuddering breath. He remembered taking those memories. It had been during a period of headhunting after he lost Heather, and he remembered the hardy, old, axe wielding Immortal he had fought and nearly lost to.

Connor hadn't believed him when he introduced himself. Connor had thought the man insane, or perhaps simply another who didn't truly understand what they were.

"Baldr." The name slid off his tongue, and as Connor reached for a beer in the chest on the deck beside his chair, he wondered at the possibilities. If the Norse pantheon was real, what other stories passed down through the ages were based in truth? Connor frowned as a cold, sick feeling like a snake was twisting around in his gut made itself known.

He'd need to make some calls, and the Game could wait.

* * *

><p>AN- Baldur (also spelled Balder and Baldr), Norse god of Peace and Light. Beloved by the rest of the gods, but killed due to the maneuverings of Loki. Supposedly he comes back to life later on, and one other god plus him make it past Ragnarok.

This chapter references season 3 finale, and the season 4 opener for Stargate. "Nemisis" and "Small Victories"


	5. Accidents Happen

**Forgotten Gods**

**A Stargate SG1/Highlander the Series Crossover**

**Part Five: Accidents Happen  
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It was his own damn fault, Hugh mentally groused through the pain.

_Blood pressure's dropping! Come on people, move!_

He should have been paying more attention to the road. To the crazy mortals sharing it.

_There's burns on over 60% of his body. Clothes are practically fused to the skin..._

Being a trucker, constantly on the move, should have been safe. He could have kept up the identity for decades, just another name on the employee list, and avoided the Game for even longer.

_He's gone. Time?_

Hugh had been burned at the stake before. Having his car blow up was, at least, faster than the slow insanity inducing burn of a witch burning.

_Oh. God. What is that?_

* * *

><p>Jack had been planning on packing up and taking the weekend off. After a hard day's fighting bug-borg, playing paper-work catch-up, and coming up with an X-Files worthy cover-story all he wanted to do was go home and watch some hockey. "General Hammond, sir. Carter. Danny. Teal'c." The colonel bobbed his head in greeting to each person in turn. "By the lack of emergency sirens, I'd say we're not under attack...? And you see, I got this prior engagement..."<p>

"Take a seat, Jack." Hammond gestured to an empty chair as Jack snapped his fingers in disappointment before pulling out the chair beside Teal'c. The larger man inclined his head and as Hammond continued speaking all four members of SG1 opened the packets that were waiting on the table. "Last night a group of drunk campers hit a truck transporting several tons of flammable materials. Luckily due to the late hour and the location, the only vehicles involved were those of the campers and the driver."

Daniel started tapping a pen against the table, each tap causing a sharp click, and the archeologist hummed. "I'm sorry it happened, but what does a traffic accident have to do with us? This was in Wyoming."

"We're getting there, Doctor Jackson." Hammond smiled with dark amusement. "Flip to page three. You'll notice that of the six involved, there were only two survivors. One of which is still in ICU. The problem, lady and gentlemen, is that we're missing a corpse."

"Sir!" Carter spoke up excitedly as she read a supplied medical report. "The other driver was a-"

"I know, Major. He died on the operating table, where they discovered the pouch. An empty pouch. The attending physician thought it might be a naturally occurring mutation, like different colored eyes or webbed toes."

"It is not possible for a jaffa to reach maturity without a prim'ta." Teal'c intoned as he examined the pictures that went along with the file.

"So is there a ghoul running around earth? A Queen?"

All members in the room shared a moment of horror-filled silence at the thought of another Hathor running around, only one with subtlety. The idea of a goa'uld breeding, slowly but steadily infiltrating the Tau'ri, was enough to give nightmares.

"That would be... unlikely." Samantha Carter offered. "We know a goa'uld cannot live long outside of a host or a specially built environment. So even if the immature goa'uld managed to leave the host, the explosion would have killed it before it got very far."

Jack grinned. "Fried snake. Mmm. Mmm good."

"Regardless of whether or not this jaffa had a prim'ta, he himself is missing." Hammond said in an attempt to steer the briefing back on topic.

"Could it be the NID? Maybe Area 51 picked him up? They've been wanting to dissect a jaffa for a while." Jack grumbled.

"No one came to claim the body. No one knows where it went. I'm sending SG1 to investigate. Find out where the body has gone, if he served a goa'uld on earth, if there are any more like Seth. I don't want unknown aliens running around unsupervised. You leave in the morning. Dismissed."

Jack sighed and gave a quick salute. "Yes, sir." He wondered if they're were any good fishing spots in Wyoming.


End file.
